


HP, Too, Is an Acronym

by assortedwatermelons



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Pre-Canon, i will add them as i go along, make sure to check these tags, tell me if i forget to tag anything im pretty goddamn forgetful, the whole story will happen before frisk falls into the underground, there will probably be future warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assortedwatermelons/pseuds/assortedwatermelons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love, hope, compassion…<br/>This is what people say monster SOULs are made of.<br/>But the absolute nature of “SOUL” is unknown.<br/>After all, humans have proven their SOULs don’t need these things to exist. The more humans distance themselves, the less they will hurt. The stronger they become.<br/>But monsters. Oh, monsters need HOPE. They need it desperately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	HP, Too, Is an Acronym

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter will mostly be told from asgore and toriel's views. don't worry, it'll switch up in the future.
> 
> "I remember the day after my son died...  
> The entire underground was devoid of hope."

Asgore had always wondered why the golden flower reminded him so strongly of his son. Perhaps it was the bright, yellow hue of the petals that evoked the same emotion felt when seeing a young, cheery smile. Perhaps it was the way the leaves of the plant bent slightly at the tips, just like the ears of a sprightly child. Maybe, even, it was the delicacy of the flower, the knowledge that it could be crushed and reduced to nothing more than a pile of useless leaves and petals with just a stomp of the feet or a harsh pull of the hands.

Well, perhaps the flower and Asriel weren’t so similar. After all, Asgore had only managed to keep one of the two alive and well.

Asgore’s hands trembled as he lifted his watering can. He briefly wondered if he could stay in the garden forever, not having to face his troubles ever again. He shut his eyes tight and breathed deeply. _Pull yourself together, Asgore._ He finished his work and rose to return inside.

The house was eerily silent without the laughter and shouts of children chasing each other through the halls. The vague scents of cinnamon and butterscotch lingered in the air. Asgore walked slowly and noiselessly, averting his eyes from the first bedroom in the hallway. He approached the door to the spare room and tried the handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. Muffled sobs sounded from the other side of the door. Asgore sighed deeply and rapped at the pale wood.

“Tori? Are you in there?” he called gently.

No response.

“Toriel, dear. Please open the door. It’s not healthy to lock yourself up like this.”

He heard shuffling behind the door, and it clicked open. Toriel stood in the doorframe, refusing to meet Asgore’s eyes. She clenched something tightly in her hands. Asgore tried to angle his head to see what she was holding, and caught a glimpse of a worn golden chain.

Ah. _The locket._

Asgore awkwardly rested his hand on Toriel’s shoulder. “Tori… Would… Would you like me to make you some tea?”

Toriel’s body stiffened, and she glared up at Asgore, her eyes reddened and glistening. “Tea? This is hardly the time, Asgore! Shouldn’t you be mourning? Where have you been? What have you done besides hang around by yourself in the garden?” Asgore opened his mouth and closed it again, not knowing what to say or what to do. Toriel seemed conflicted. “I mean, I… You need your space, of course. I- I’m sorry. Thank you, but… I’m really not in the mood for tea.” Toriel turned around hastily and moved to shut the door, but Asgore grabbed her wrist before she could pull it closed. She stood stiffly with her back turned to him.

“Toriel, I am sorry. You’re right, I should’ve been here… With you. But please, I’m here now. Don’t run away from this. At the very least, we should mourn together.”

Toriel didn’t respond, but her body became slightly less tense, and Asgore took that as his cue to step into the spare room. He had almost forgotten what the room looked like; they went inside it so infrequently. He walked with Toriel to the queen-sized bed in the corner and sat down next to her. The room was completely silent for a moment, before Asgore noticed Toriel shoulders trembling slightly.

That was when his brief visage of strength crumbled away.

Soon, sobs occupied the room’s silence. The king and queen wept for their lost children, occasionally murmuring words of sorrow or reassurance to each other.

Eventually, when there were no more tears left to be shed, Toriel spoke.

“You know we must return to our duties.”

A shaky nod.

“You know this kingdom needs their rulers to be strong.”

Asgore breathed out through his nose. “I know.” He steadied his voice before speaking again. “But… That’s not me. You’re the one who’s really running this kingdom. You’re the one with that strength.”

Toriel shook her head. “Perhaps so, but they need you, too. For what, I can’t say. It’s a quality about you; something that makes people wholeheartedly accept that you’re the king.”

That didn’t sound very reassuring. Toriel continued speaking.

“For now, all we can do is try to alleviate the fear and grief threatening to overwhelm us all. We need to focus on other activities, and… Move past this. We’ll speak in our monthly address tomorrow.” Toriel shook her head and stood up resolutely, slipping the human’s locket into her pocket. “Let’s go.” Asgore sat for a moment longer, admiring her strength. He had barely noticed the tremor that remained in her voice.

* * * * *

 “Queen Toriel! I have an urgent report!” A dog monster with white markings around their face and eyes rushed into the room, kneeling and briefly nodding at the royal couple.

Toriel stood up walked quickly to the monster. “Urgent? What is it, Dogma?”

Dogma looked left and right frantically. “Toriel? Where did you go? Please stand still so I can see you!”

Toriel stopped pacing. “Ah, of course. Sorry. What is this news?” She looked behind her. Asgore was quietly pouting in his throne, apparently hurt at not being paid attention to. Toriel shot him a look that conveyed something like _stop moping and get your butt over here, dear._ Asgore meekly stood up and went to hear the news.

“Ah, well,” Dogma tapped their foot nervously. “The Royal Guard conducted its monthly census for the underground, and… Th- there’s bad news. Really bad news.”

A heavy feeling settled in Toriel’s chest, as though an iron weight was bearing on her from the inside. What now? It hadn’t even been a full month since the death of her children, and more bad news? Perhaps she was overreacting; she would hear the report before jumping to conclusions. Toriel nodded at Dogma to continue, before realizing the motion was pointless. She spoke aloud. “Go on, Dogma.”

“Well, according to our data… Five percent of the underground’s population has… has dusted, in the past month alone.”

If the feeling in Toriel’s chest had felt like iron before, now it felt like the iron had shaped itself into spikes boring directly into her SOUL. She glanced at Asgore, who looked just as stricken as she did. She gulped and forced herself to speak.

“Dogma… Are you sure those statistics are correct? Five percent of the total population? Not .05%, perhaps?”

Dogma whined slightly. “I wish it were incorrect! Captain Gerson instructed us to triple-check, because he wasn’t convinced.”

No, no, no. This was all wrong. Monsters didn’t just _die_. Especially not at this rate! Toriel expected something more like this after _ten years_ , not after a single month. And after ten years, the population would already be renewed with young monsters. Five percent in a month… Hundreds of monsters gone. Dusted. The monster population wasn’t even that plentiful to begin with… There were maybe five or six thousand monsters in the entire underground. Toriel shut her eyes tight and blinked away any tears threatened to leak out.

“Dogma. Has the Royal Guard already done a full search of the underground? Did you identify any threats that could be causing this?”

Dogma stopped bouncing their leg and looked up at the queen. “Of course we’ve searched, Queen Toriel! Gerson wouldn’t rest until we found some sort of culprit!”

“Well?” Asgore said quietly. “What did you discover?” Dogma jumped a bit at hearing the gravelly voice, not used to hearing the king speak of serious matters.

“Ah, well, the thing is… We haven’t found anything. There’s absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, except, well, you know. The mortality rate.” They paused for a moment, starting to panic at seeing Toriel and Asgore’s upset expressions. “Uh, don’t worry! Gerson and the rest of the guard are still searching! They haven’t stopped once for the past two days!”

“Two days? Why didn’t you report this sooner?” Asgore demanded. Dogma flinched. Turns out the king could look pretty intimidating when he wanted to.

“Well, you see… We didn’t want to believe it. So we held off on confirming anything before we were absolutely sure.”

“How are you so certain that there’s no culprit?”

Dogma fiddled with their armor straps. “You see, it’s… The dust. We- the Royal Guard, that is- were instructed to determine the causes of death. And, well… the dust piles we found all showed completely natural death. They looked the exact same as dust left from monsters passing from old age. Not only that, but there’s been no signs of rogue monsters anywhere. And there aren’t any humans, either. The last human that fell down here was—” Asgore and Toriel’s eyes hardened at the same time, and Dogma stopped talking. “Anyway, we’re certain that there’s no ‘killer.’ It’s not a disease, either. Everyone just… faded.”

Toriel and Asgore didn’t reply for several moments.

“Uh, am I supposed to…?”

Toriel looked up, as though surprised Dogma was still there. “Ah, yes. I apologize,” she said distractedly. “You’re dismissed, Dogma. Thank you for your report. Tell Gerson to continue his search.”

“Yes, Queen Toriel.” Dogma bowed and walked hastily out of the throne room.

Toriel sat resignedly back on her throne, putting her head in her hands. _What did monsters do to deserve this?_ she wondered.

First, Toriel’s children died in succession, one after the other. Their deaths impacted everyone in the underground. It was a grim reminder that even after all this time, they weren’t truly safe.

Now, hundreds of monsters were gone, too. It seemed that the tragedies just wouldn’t stop. Monster families would be broken up and grieving more than ever before, wondering who would be the next to perish.

The worst part was that apparently no one even knew why the monsters were dying. The explanation for the mass dusting was shrouded in mystery. How much easier it would be if there was an enemy that they could attempt to beat! At the very least, Toriel would like to feel like she was fighting for a way to stop all of this.

A low cough sounded behind her. Toriel almost forgot Asgore was still there. Suddenly, a thought clicked in her mind.

“Asgore, didn’t you notice the absence of monsters? You walk around the kingdom often.”

Asgore looked like he was trying to become smaller. “I do, but I… I haven’t gone out in the past month. Not since… Um.”

Toriel breathed out and pinched the fabric at the edge of her cape. How could she be so blind? The last time she even went out in public was for the monthly address. She should’ve been keener on the state of the kingdom.

“What… do we do?” Asgore asked apprehensively.

Hah. As if anyone knew the answer to that.

“Asgore, I’m not sure. I don’t know what to do at this point— it’s not like we can stop the deaths. We don’t even know _why_ they’re happening.”

Toriel paused for a moment, an idea starting to form at the back of her mind.

“Hmm, you’re right. We can’t stand back and do nothing, though. What if…”

Toriel listened for a moment, but she found she couldn’t really pay attention to Asgore’s rambling. She was too caught up in her own thoughts.

There was no cause of death that they _knew of_. So, the solution would be to figure out the cause of the deaths. But how? Clearly, the Royal Guard couldn’t do it. Neither she nor Asgore could do it. There wasn’t anyone in the underground who could look at this and figure out what was happening. Whoever could look at random piles of dust collected around town and connect them to a reasonable cause of death would either be a genius, or insane.

Suddenly, it hit her.

They needed a genius. And Toriel knew exactly who that genius would be.

They needed someone who had spent the past decade conducting inane and disconnected experiments. Someone who was dismissed as completely nonsensical by everyone who met him. Someone who somehow, at the end of the decade, came out with the greatest innovation the underground had ever seen and completely turned around his reputation. Someone who acquired massive fame for his brilliance, only to drift back into the shadows to continue research on who knows what. Someone who had recently been awarded the new, illustrious title of “Royal Scientist” by Asgore and Toriel themselves.

“Asgore?”

“Yes, dear?”

“We need to talk with Doctor Gaster.”

**Author's Note:**

> this story is vaguely inspired by draconym’s wonderful(ly painful) comic on tumblr which can be found here: http://draconym.tumblr.com/post/134824173259  
> that will probably give you an idea of where this story will be going :^)


End file.
